


Blood Oath

by rhink_is_my_kink



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood, Bottom Link Neal, Cutting, Hand Jobs, Husbands, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, Top Rhett McLaughlin, blood oath, just be warned, no betas we die like men, not a lot, rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhink_is_my_kink/pseuds/rhink_is_my_kink
Summary: Rhett and Link return to the site of their Blood Oath without the cameras and crew.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Blood Oath

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the third part of their Buies Creek documentary on Good Mythical Morning. I just needed something a little more profound and... feel-y... from that encounter.

The last day of filming in Buies Creek was bittersweet. Rhett and Link enjoyed being home, telling their friends and crew members the same stories they’d heard many times before, but _showing_ them the places they’d spoken about so affectionately over the years. They hated to see it end. Their hearts ached at the thought of packing up and leaving part of themselves behind in North Carolina again. 

In their hotel room that afternoon, they share an early dinner and a bottle of wine, reminiscing over the trip; how things have changed, while other things stayed exactly the same. And about friends long forgotten, or those painfully lost.

After a couple glasses, Rhett notices Link has fallen silent. He looks at Rhett, pushing his glasses up before they slip down his nose, and apologizes quietly, bone-deep sadness etched all over his face.

“What? Why? What for?”

“We shoulda done the oath. Again, I mean. I shoulda done it.”

“Hush, bo. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not. I got scared because it all felt so heavy. Everyone was staring at us. It was a lot to process, and I shut down. I was a smart ass about it, and that’s not even how I feel. I want you to know that.”

Rhett grips Link’s face in both hands, tilting Link’s gaze upward so he can meet those worried blue eyes with his warm green ones. His voice is soft, and kind, and more accented than normal because being home does that to both of them. “Listen to me, buddy roll. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It was foolish of me to ask you to do something like that in front of everyone. It was private back then, it shoulda been private this time too. It’s my fault--not yours. I got carried away in the moment.”

Link’s eyes search Rhett’s face, looking for a joke, or teasing smirk; looking for a placating lie. He finds nothing there but soft, supportive adoration. “Let’s go now,” his voice wavers. He clutches Rhett’s shoulders as if he were drowning and needed his partner to save him. Link says it again with more urgency. “Let’s go now, bo. I wanna go now. Can we go?”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course we can.” He searches for his phone so he can call for a ride, since they’re both a little tipsy. He makes quick work of it, and a few minutes later he’s pulling Link down the hall fingers entwined, wearing a radiant grin.

In the few minutes they had to kill while they waited for the car, Rhett texts Stevie to tell her they’d be back later. She texts back a question mark, followed by,  _ should i be worried _ ?

He hardly has time to placate Stevie before their ride has pulled up next to the curb. Link piles into the car, eagerly dragging Rhett behind him. He gives the driver instructions about where they want to be dropped off. Without even discussing it they both know they have to make the hike on foot. There were no acceptable shortcuts. This was their  _ true _ mission. Earlier, with the cameras and the crew, that had all been for show. This time it’s just for  _ them _ . 

This pilgrimage is sacred. And they would make this excursion carrying the weight of three and a half decades of friendship, memories, and love heavy in their chests. Earlier, being here with the crew, the cameras, that had been for views. This is spiritual. 

Walking over this lush green land, through warm waters that lapped at their waists, their sweat-slick skin glowing in the moonlight, they hold hands. They don’t bicker or joke as they had earlier for the cameras. It isn’t appropriate now. This is sacrosanct.

The earthy smell of the forest engulfs them slowly as they pass by dense groupings of trees. Finally, their rocks come into view, and the weight of regret that had lain like a heavy stone in Link’s heart since this morning falls away without ceremony. He suddenly remembers how to breathe normally again. He turns to face Rhett, a crooked smile plastered on his face, to find Rhett’s eyes swimming with tears that spill over his cheeks in hot rivulets when he returns Link’s smile. 

Link’s hands shake when he seizes Rhett’s face, his own tears falling as they kiss. It’s frantic, and desperate, and Rhett has to push them apart. “Shhh. It’s okay, Neal. Plane doesn’t leave ‘til morning, we’ve got time.” He pulls a folding knife out of his pocket and holds it out for Link, along with his other hand, empty, palm upturned. “You sure about this? We don’t have to do blood, brother.”

Link surprises Rhett by taking the blade from him without even flinching. He asks, “Where should I…?” 

“Right here,” Rhett demonstrates by making a quick slashing motion over his fingertip. “So we don’t hit any nerves.” Rhett is always practical when Link can’t be.

Link grips Rhett’s middle finger, and runs the sharp blade over it in a quick motion. Rhett hisses, and pulls his hand away. Pointing it towards the ground he tells Link, “Don’t look at it. Don’t want you passin’ out on me. You’re too big to carry all the way back to the road.” It dispels some of the tension, and makes Link chuckle.

“Okay, now me,” he says with only a touch of anxiety in his voice. He holds his shaky hand out to Rhett.

“It’s okay, bo. I got you. I promise.” Followed by a quick jerk of Rhett’s arm, and a sudden sting in his finger that makes his head swim for a second. 

“Oh my goodness,” Link breathily remarks, his other hand reaching out for Rhett in the dark. The sting subsides quickly, taking the dizziness with it, but Rhett’s hand is still tight on his arm. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He repeats himself for emphasis.

Rhett releases him and uses his clean hand to guide their bloody middle fingers together before they can clot. He holds them there, each finger thrumming with the steady  _ whumpwhumpwhump _ of its owner’s heartbeat. 

“We fulfilled the vow we made to each other. That much is true. But we’re not done. Link, I vow to keep doing amazing things with you, for the rest of my days.” Rhett nearly chokes on the lump that forms in his throat. He has nothing to hide right here, with Link. So he lets the tears overfill his eyes and slide down his face. 

“Rhett, I don’t know what the future holds for us anymore than I did when we were fifteen, but I’m sure as hell not going anywhere. I vow to keep doing awesome things with you. As long as I’m still breathing—I’m all yours.” Link gives a high-pitched chuckle borne of tension, but Rhett can see the moonlight reflecting off his face too well for his cheeks not to be wet.

Rhett reaches out and cups a hand to the back of Link’s head and draws them close so their foreheads touch. “Twenty-six years ago we stood in this same place, and sealed this pact with a handshake. Ain’t it grand how much has changed?” He surges forward, locking their lips together. His hands are fisted in Link’s shirt, pulling the shorter man up onto his tippy toes. 

Link is the one who breaks the kiss, but it’s only so he can pull off their shirts. He crowds up into Rhett’s space again, so his husband doesn’t hurt his back slouching down to meet him.

Rhett is the one who unbuttons their jeans, leaving tacky blood fingerprints all over the crotch of both. Link kicks off his wet boots, and Rhett follows suit. Their arms tangle together when they try taking each others jeans off, and in the end, they separate, each sitting on one of the boulders to pull their own damp clothing off.

Link finishes first, and dives across the space to nibble little kisses into Rhett’s neck and chest. He pushes a small packet of lube into Rhett’s hand and whispers, “Please, bo. I need you.”

Tearing the packet open with his teeth, he spits the corner out onto the ground, hoping he can be forgiven for littering, just this once. He coats his fingers with a groan, as Link’s fingers tug at his nipples. He traces wet fingers over Link’s crack, then pushes two digits into the soft, tight heat of his hole. 

Link gasps as he’s breached by those fingers, then pushes back, driving them deeper, with a raw, desperate noise. “Come on, Rhett. I can’t wait. Fuck me now,” he pleads.

“Shit, baby. Gimmie a second. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says teasingly. Then Rhett’s knuckles slide over his prostate, making Link ground out a guttural curse.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you?” Rhett replies with a grin.

“Okay, okay. Hurry up though.” He bides his time quietly by sucking a mark into Rhett’s neck, and letting his fingers circle their cocks. His long-fingered hand wraps around both of them, stroking over their lengths, and milking slick pearls of precome out of their slits.

“Link.” It’s the only word Rhett says, but it’s hushed, and worshipful. It sounds like a prayer. 

“Yeah, bo. Come on. I’m ready. Don’t make me wait anymore.” Against the shell of Rhett’s ear, Link sighs, “Please.”

Rhett withdraws his fingers, and kisses away the whine that bubbles out of Link. He gently pries persistent fingers from around their cocks. Placing kisses over the knuckles of that hand, before tugging it until he has Link laid out across their declaration rock. 

Rhett’s fingers dig tracks through the lichen that decorates the boulder they kneel in front of. He groans Link’s name as he slides his cock home in the tight wet heat of his best friend. 

They’re alone in the clearing, save for a handful of crows attracted by the glint of moonlight sparking like cold fire from their wedding rings as they move together in the humid night air.

At first it’s a slow and dirty grind. Their fingers dig into the stone, clutching desperately at the only steadying force they have right now. They leave smears of blood behind, streaking the rock with their conjoined lives, soaking the moss with their essence. Leaving stains that will remain on these rocks for an untold length of time; the forest canopy above shielding this holy place from the worst of the elements. 

Then Link pushes back into Rhett, “Come on. Harder, faster. Shit, you feel so big, bo. So good.”

Rhett slips his hands down Link’s body to grip his slim waist. He snaps his hips forward with an appreciative gasp. “So fucking tight, baby.”

For a time, everything is a silver-lit blur of sweat, lube, and maybe even tears. All good things must come to an end though, and in this case, the end begins with Rhett’s strained voice. “I’m close, bo.”

“Yeah. Come on. Lemme have it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up.”

The fire coiling in Rhett’s guts finally takes over. His movements stutter, he digs his fingernails into Link’s hips, and lets the feverish warmth consume him. Grinding himself deep into smooth, wet, heat he unloads into Link babbling incoherent praise at his partner. 

He withdraws from Link with a reluctant groan, sending a hot wash of come over Link’s taint as he departs. Link plants a palm on the rock, and raises himself so he can wrap a hand around his dick to get himself off. 

Rhett mumbles at Link to stop. To move. He shoos Link’s hand away and replaces it with his own. “I got you, bo,” he reassures Link, as he takes Link’s heavy cock in his hand and jerks it quickly. 

It isn’t enough and Link whines for more, finally remembering to use his words. “Faster, baby. Wanna come so bad.” A deep, rumbled curse bubbles out of his throat when Rhett’s big hand speeds to a blur. “Yes. Yeah. Oh, gosh, that’s it.” He wavers unsteadily, and Rhett throws an arm around him and holds him so tight he’s pretty sure he can feel Link’s heart jackrabbiting against his own chest. 

Link clings to Rhett’s arm, keening a deep, sonorous boom that carries clear into the treetops. Rhett knows he’s close, right on the edge. He peppers kisses over Link’s chin and neck, encouraging him to let go. 

And that’s exactly what Link does. He cries out Rhett’s name with a force that scatters the birds occupying the woods around them. He shakes apart in the arms of his husband and splashes warm ribbons of come over the large rock.

They stay kneeling for a little while, held in each other’s arms while they both come down from the endorphins. They kiss, and run their fingers through each others hair, and skate fingertips over familiar flesh. Praise and affectionate teasing is traded in hushed tones. Declarations of love are exchanged back and forth as the skin over galloping heartbeats is warmed and worshiped.

Once their knees start to ache, they find their shirts, and lay them out over the leaves so they can sit without getting debris stuck to their sweat-shiny bodies. Here they sit and talk about everything, much as they had done here as boys so long ago. Their chests bear a mirrored ache as they each, unknowingly, tether a small piece of their hearts here, for the second time in their lives. It’s a small piece, one they’ll hardly miss, but it will connect them inexorably back to these rocks, and this sacred place. 

Eventually, they both reluctantly agree that their time here is at an end, and they must make the trek back to reality and responsibility. They both smile a little more as they help each other get dressed. Rhett laughs when Link slips his shirt on to find it wet and messy with body fluids. “You know, I’m just gonna burn this shirt. It’s unbearable.”

“Oh, come on, Neal. We have to wade back through the river anyway. Might as well make it a quick swim. That’ll clean your shirt off just fine.”

“That’s besides the point,” Link grouses. “Your shirt is perfectly clean.”

“I know. Why do you think  _ I’m _ the one who sat on it, brother?”

“You shit!” He teases, but laughs. Rhett is right, after all. And the strong river current would clean most of it up just fine. So he strips his shirt off again, and starts walking through the woods. Rhett drags his shirt off too. Link shoots him a look, and Rhett shrugs, “Never let a man be shirtless alone, brother.” He claps Link on the back and then twines their fingers together. 

The walk back is much lighter. They laugh, and tease, and, surprisingly, find some stories to tell that the other hasn’t already heard a million times. When they reach the river, they wade all the way across, leave their phones and Link’s glasses on the shore, and do a little swimming. Their pale chests catch the moonlight, as they dive and dart through the current, making them look like giant fish from some long ago myth, that grant wishes to heroes brave and strong enough to catch them. 

They conclude their swim by giving their bodies and clothes a decent, if perfunctory scrub. They emerge from the river, as clean as they can be, given the circumstances, and wring themselves out the best they can. Rhett sends a text to call another car to retrieve them, giving them about 30 minutes to make it to the rendezvous point at the side of the road. Rhett makes sure to add a generous tip to compensate the driver for picking them up in such a weird place in the middle of the night. The tip is huge, and completely worth it.

They hold hands and make their way back. They’re still pretty wet by the time the car arrives, but Rhett had left such a generous tip the driver didn’t even seem to care about their wet clothes. Link vows not to fret his frugal little mind about the size of the tip, he wouldn’t even ask about it, because it was worth it. If they had waited to be dry before calling for a car Stevie would quite possibly have killed them both. 

Rhett finds he has sixteen increasingly frantic missed texts from her, and four urgent-sounding voicemails. There are two other voice messages that are mostly just Stevie cursing their births for making her worry so much about them. There were likely a few on Link’s phone as well, but his battery had died sometime earlier. 

So, when they arrive back at the hotel, Stevie is waiting for them. They expect to find her apoplectic with rage, but she just looks concerned. She punches them both on the arm for leaving her to worry, and hugs them both, glad they’re back safe. She pushes them away with a dramatic fake-gagging noise. 

“Ugh. You guys smell like shit. Where the hell did you go?  _ Yuck _ .”

They look down at themselves, and can finally see in the hotel’s lighting, that they are still  _ phenomenally _ messy. In addition to their still-wet clothes, their jeans still have blood stains on them, and their faces are also streaked with dried blood as well.

Link is suddenly exhausted, so he just shrugs and says, “You don’t wanna know, Stevie.” Then he hauls his husband up to their room for a hot shower, and a few hours of sleep before they have to pack up their things for the flight back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> No betas. We die like men.
> 
> Thanks for liking, commenting, and subscribing!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: rhink-is-my-kink


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